I looked after the car, the rent, the bills and did all the childcare. He wouldn’t even take our son to the dentist.
At the age of 51, I know now that it’s a story as old as time – and one that fit nearly all of my friends’ relationships.
The mental load of invisible labour often leads to burnout and resentment. Photo / 123rf
I looked after the car, the rent, the bills and did all the childcare. He wouldn’t even take our son to the dentist.
At the age of 51, I know now that it’s a story as old as time – and one that fit nearly all of my friends’ relationships. A woman and mother, working a fulltime job, sorting out most of her family and home life. For me, that included our calendar and yet, my partner, who I was with for 17 years, still never got up in the night with our child, because he had to work.
We first met, aged 28, when I’d been working overseas as a marketing executive and came home to support a friend who was opening a business with a guy. He was that guy and he seduced me with food. He made me a restaurant-grade three-course meal, which I still remember now, and before long we were a couple. We never married but we had our son around two and a half years after meeting and were pretty happy. Until the cracks started to show.
He didn’t participate in any aspect of our son’s education, never attended parent meetings or concerts. I looked after the car, the rent, the bills, and did all the childcare and other duties involved with our son. Everything. I remember one time he even refused to take him to the dentist because he didn’t want to be seen as the mean parent.
He would only take him out for two hours on a Saturday and never came to any of the children’s parties. He flat out refused to help me organise birthday parties for him, even though he was a private chef; and would just show up at the event.
He’d also started to ignore me, refusing all my bids for connection. It seemed trivial at first. I might say “Oh wow, look at that!” And he’d just ignore it. But then it was happening more and more. He just wasn’t hearing me.
I would bring it up with him, but nothing really changed so I learnt how to get on with it. It was the same for my friends. The men’s jobs always seemed to take priority while my female friends and I took on the brunt of family life and chores.
The mental load then became exhausting. I was always having to consider my partner and his needs, before my own, and I resented his ability to just lie there on the sofa while I would be looking after our child. He used to nap on the sofa too, which meant I couldn’t move around the house freely, and had to be quiet.
My relationship had become isolating and without really realising it, I’d become depressed. When every bid of connection and warmth you offer is turned down, it’s hurtful. We never explosively argued, but he never acknowledged my needs, and the smallest of things like asking a question would just be ignored, often like he had an odd sense of entitlement.
Then came the big life bombshell. He said our relationship was over. I was devastated. It ripped everything I knew to be true clean apart. He came home from a work trip and told me that’s what he wanted. I was so shocked, but he was adamant and even suggested it would work best if I was the one who moved out.
If we were going to separate, I wanted to do it as well as we could. So while we were sorting logistics, he slept on the sofa. It was then that I noticed a few suspicious things. He was always staying up late texting. I asked to borrow his phone once and he got very shifty. With my alarm bells ringing, I went searching and found emails and Facebook messages to another woman. And not just anyone, he was having an affair with my friend’s au pair. I even found a transaction for flowers he sent to her on our joint account.
At that point, I confronted him. He’s always said the cheating was a huge regret of his, reasoning that it was simply a case of him working abroad and taking the opportunity. But I managed to be faithful, so I’m not sure why he couldn’t. And we were still having sex, admittedly, not at pre-baby levels. But right to the end, I tried to keep it spicy.
Aside from the infidelity, over the years, all the imbalance and compromises had made me feel smaller and smaller. Some people enjoy being a ‘trad wife’, but to me it feels unbalanced and unfair. I suspect aside from laziness, it was also, to a certain extent, what he expected.
I remember saying to a friend once: surely, there’s more to living together. But to be honest, many of my friends are in similar relationships, if not worse. I know one couple who have the same jobs, yet she does everything. She can never really explain why.
I don’t want my son to see this type of behaviour as a role model. We need to show our young men that there must be fairness. Even if those jobs may sometimes be different for men or for women. There can still be balance.
Thankfully my son never really saw a lot of what went on, especially in the split. It’s important to me that my son’s relationship with his dad stays intact and I feel a great responsibility to raise a good man. So even after the split, despite my friends’ and family’s objections, I decided to support my ex-partner as a father in my son’s life. I suspect there’s a bit of martyr syndrome in me.
So the “man-keeping” continued even after we split up. I organised a place for him to stay at a friend’s house. Then, I paid his rent for a year. I lent him my car – he smashed it. Twice. I lent him money. He uses my house as his postal address even though I’ve told him to stop. His lease is in my name. His bills are in my name. The list goes on.
I carried on helping after the split, because after I got myself together, I ended up earning more money than him. Lots of people find it hard to understand our relationship. But the relationship my son has with his dad is hugely important to me. Everything I do for my ex is so that that bond will always be solid. It’s been painful but it’s been worth it, because they are close and have a strong bond and I know that no matter what my son has a dad.
Given how he’d treated me, I know how it looks to others but seeing his vulnerability makes it hard for me to stop helping him. So I still support him through emotional issues, but I have learnt over the years to call him out. I have learnt to say no more often. I try my best to be calm and accepting for the sake of our child, and I think he likes to think of us as friends. Which is nice in theory, but not exactly the reality. I don’t think I’d have much to do with him if we didn’t have a child together. He’s not a bad man, he never intended to be dismissive or cruel. It seems that for whatever reason, so many men seem to forget how to be grown-ups once they get into a relationship.
Once I got myself sorted out of the relationship and I started to feel better, my whole life opened up. I felt like I was coming back and noticed how much of myself I had sheared away. It was a total revelation.
To any women reading this and nodding vigorously, my advice is to seek counselling, even if you think you are feeling okay. Try not to forget who you are, and who you were before you tethered yourself to a man.
As told to Anna Louise Dearden
The term “man-keeping” appears in a study led by Angelica Ferrara at Stanford University. Defined as a situation where women are burning out because they disproportionately bear the emotional burdens of their male partners, it’s an emerging and increasingly recognised concept in gender studies and psychology, showing the imbalance adds to women’s mental load, resentment, and a diminished sense of self-worth.
Fidel Beauhill, author of Divorce – The Modern Man’s Guide and a Men’s Relationship Coach on ITV’s My Mum Your Dad with Davina McCall, says, he’s seen it again and again. He outlines some of the signs he sees where women might be falling into “man-keeping”.
1. You’re exhausted
You feel that you are managing the household as well as the family and your partner’s emotional needs. You have become the one who understands, soothes, motivates and holds space for his inner world and it often feels as if you’re carrying a massive emotional load.
2. You try to take control of everything
You do this because you think that will keep everything safe. The reality is, trying to stay in control often creates emotional distance. For many women, control becomes a coping mechanism. They have built identity around being the one who gets it done. The mum. The wife. The capable one. Letting go of that means risking things not being done properly, and that can feel terrifying.
3. You don’t let your partner take full ownership of tasks
Even if it is messy at first, it’s important to give your partner the opportunity to approach things the way they want to, even if it’s not how you would do it.
4. You slip into the critical parent role
You find yourself managing, correcting what they’re doing – and keeping score.
5. You’ve forgotten who you really are, beyond the role of the caretaker
I’ve worked with female clients to find their identity beyond care taking and it has shifted the relationship and she felt it straight away. The energy changed. She could breathe again. He was no longer leaning on her. He was standing next to her.
Esther's dads, Jenkins and Walter, founded a 20ha sanctuary for her and other animals.